Nancy's Musings

This is going to be a confession, which means that I am giving you permission to judge me -- not because I want absolution or abuse or absolution through abuse (I am only a secondary victim of my own ignorance), but because learning from the mistakes of others can make the world better, and I will sacrifice for that. For those of you triggered or injured by this confession, I am sorry, and I hope you hold me accountable in whatever way you need to. Be safe. Be well. I grew up in Southern Utah around ranchers and other white stereotypes. When I was a teenager I volunteered to help with a boy scout merit badge activity. I was assigned to help at a knot-tying station with an older man (probably in his sixties). I was much more interested in learning a new skill myself than I was in helping anybody. I'm sure I was mostly useless. Between rotation groups, the man teaching the boys how to tie clove hitches and granny squares sensed my eagerness to learn. He got a twinkle in his eye - a...

Because mental illness is alienating, one of my favorite things to do is exchange perspectives and experiences with others who share some part of my struggles. One of my dear friends was willing to write his perspective down, and gave me permission to share it here. I was intrigued by his ideas, and I think you will be, too. " Anybody with anxiety—any mental or physical illness—is often told that their illness doesn't define them. I disagree. Growing up I was always somewhat anxious about things; I was careful about how I handled and used my toys, or who I let play with them; I was not interested in being an Astronaut when everybody else thought it would be exciting; I didn't seek out the thrill rides at amusement parks, instead favoring the down-to-earth attractions like bumper cars; I was not interested in the "dares" of other children… But it wasn't until my late teens that I started to become clinically, chronically anxious. My first majo...

A member of my congregation whom I admire posted a link to this today. It's an amazing site, and one I look forward to utilizing - especially the  At the Pulpit  online resource, which offers excerpts and discourses by women in General Conference. The man who posted it prefaced the link with this quotation:  President Spencer W. Kimball said: "Someday, when the whole story of this and previous dispensations is told, it will be filled with courageous stories of our women, of their wisdom and their devotion, their courage, for one senses that perhaps, just as women were the first at the sepulchre of the Lord Jesus Christ after his resurrection, our righteous women have so often been instinctively sensitive to things of eternal consequence" ("The True Way of Life and Salvation," Apr . 1978 General Conference). I imagine it was something discussed in the BYU-Idaho devotional this morning. I'm not affiliated with the university in any way, officially or unoffic...

I have been very frustrated lately. I have been ill for more than a week, and unable to do the things I usually do. I can't babysit, fulfill my religious duties, or earn my keep in the house. I dreamt last night that I couldn't pay rent, and that I was being kicked out. (There's no real fear of that, I promise). I have been functionally unemployed (read: self-employed) for several years now, living on student loans and the generosity of others. Not only do I feel pressure to earn money to survive, but I have a desperate emotional need to feel and be useful. These feelings usually make me look around myself for a need I can fill, but everyone's needs seem to be met by others much more suitable. I don't have the social connections to people that would make my ministering to them natural and beneficial. All my connections seem so awkward and disjointed that if I tried to be useful, I would only be tolerated, for my own sake. I don't have money: I am in need. ...

As a follow-up to my previous post, my friend and I are still negotiating friendship. I have discovered that for my emotional health, I need verbal affirmation. I need someone to say nice things because the voices in my head are unusually cruel, and I don't have the self-confidence to fight them on my own while under the pressure of near-constant low-level rejection (and the bitter shrieking of professional rejection). Anyway, I brainstormed some nice things to say to mitigate the pain of rejection, and since I put a lot of work into it and some of them made me laugh, I thought I'd share some. Feel free to use them if you yourself are ever called upon to give me bad news. "I don't love you, but . . . . . . When you fall in love with someone else and leave me behind, there won’t be enough cookies to fill the void.” . . . If things were different I’d ask you on a real date, because I don’t find you repulsive and I think we’d have fun.” . . . I will admi...

Background: So I'm in love with a man who isn't in love with me for some unspecified (or unspecifiable) reason, and normally I'd just drop the acquaintance and look for someone else. Or become satisfied on my own (which I was, for a long time). But he wants to stay friends. This is new territory for me. I don't fall in love often (ever?), and staying in a painful situation is not really my M.O. either. But I'm sort of trapped, and I need to make this work. I'm also feeling vulnerable about admitting that I've been rejected, because it categorizes me. I'm one of the "rejected" rather than the "rejecting." But this is not a real distinction, and pooh to anyone who thinks that way. Anyway, this is some advice I wrote for him, and for other people who find themselves in his awkward situation, needing to hold a friend at arm's length, but still wishing to keep them close. *     *     * “She is tolerable, I suppose, but not ha...

It's not even noon yet on January 1st of this fresh hell of a year. (That's a Dorothy Parker allusion. I am not personally ready to condemn a whole year yet). So far in 2019, I have been grossly hurt by a woman with untreated bipolar disorder, and have seen other people be hurt as well, and seen their reactions which could also be hurtful. Perhaps it means nothing that eleven hours into the shiny new year, the pain is overwhelming everything else. I paid my bills. That was also painful. Telling my debtors that I can't pay them next month (or, like, ever) will also be painful, but I'm not going to do that today. Because it's a holiday and they probably won't answer their phones. I hope they don't. It's a holiday, and call center workers need holidays. Lots of them. I wanted to turn this into some resolution about forgiveness or something - some way to make this a positive, but I'm not ready yet. The inner turmoil is too fresh. I don't have a...